


Tinkling My Heart

by offwiththeirheads



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Cutesy, Dining at Tom's Kitchen, Flower references, Fluff, Ice Skating, Kinda, Love, M/M, Roses, Valentine's Day, infatuation before love, larry stylinson - Freeform, one direction - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 08:24:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3349931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/offwiththeirheads/pseuds/offwiththeirheads
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if he’s a mugger? He faintly hears Liam’s voice.</p><p>Aka</p><p>Louis' had enough of this so called romantic holiday when he comes across the one person who makes his heart melt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tinkling My Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mybeanieandme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mybeanieandme/gifts).



> A very Happy Valentine's Day to all of you lovely folks, who've taken the time to read this.
> 
> Dedicated to Ash who's been my first ever friend and she's a great artist too.
> 
> I want to thank [Steph](http://gemma-daily.tumblr.com/) for being ever so lovely to give me the basis for this story. 
> 
> And I wanna thank my lovely beta [Karen](http://comelouve.tumblr.com/) for taking her time to go through this fic and fixing it. Thank you for polishing this little monster for me.

                          

          “Bloody fucking date!” He huffs angrily, slamming his fist on the steering wheel, “Fucking weather and Fuck Valentine’s day!”

 

          The road is wet from the morning rain and it’s been cloudy for most of the day and to top it off, its February 14! He’s lucky it’s a Saturday and he doesn’t have any work or classes, so he can just go home this instant and mope about what a fucked up day he’s had.

 

           It’s unfair, it’s been so long since he’s been in a relationship and he had to go ruin this one when his last one had been a total disaster too. He’s never really been good at relationships or being romantic. He’s finally accepting it, finally come to terms with it.

 

          He has half a mind to turn around and head to a park or to Jordan’s house so he doesn’t have to go to his apartment. He knows Liam is undoubtedly having it with Zayn after their sweet romantic date.

 

         Liam was ever so sweet, ringing up a restaurant early in the morning, breaking Louis out of his sleep, to reserve a table for two. He had even ordered a bouquet of flowers to deliver to Zayn’s apartment. He’s happy for his friends, really pleased for them; it’s just that sometimes it feels like a slap across his face.

 

         There are days when they have a movie night together. All three of them munching on popcorn and Louis being the one to pick a real shitty movie. The lovers would share a sofa, practically cuddled up against each other so tight as if they’re trying to merge into one. Louis usually makes a disgusted face and throws chips at them but honestly deep down inside he wants something like that. Seeing them exist in a world of their own, makes him think of _things_. Things that seem hard for him to achieve.

 

         He wants to be able to randomly press short kisses on his face and wake up to a warm body pressed against him. To be able to surprise him with a proper breakfast and take him on dates. He wants to see his eyes light up when he sees something he loves and build memories around each other. He wants to be able to mindlessly link their hands together on a morning walk and kiss him before he leaves for work or classes. But he knows he’s not built for it, he knows he’s only ever dreaming of it. The problem is, he never does stuff like that, can't do it, doesn't know how to go about doing them. He’s a man of many words but not actions.

 

         Liam tells him off for thinking like that. He has random emotional outbursts at times. He zones out at the kitchen table while having his morning tea and Liam usually walks in at moments like that. That’s when Liam asks him about it while preparing a coffee for himself, so Louis goes on and on about how bad he is at relationships. How it must suck for the other person to be with him and he wonders why they even bother to be with him for that long in the first place.

 

          Liam tells him to shut up. Yells even, because he hates it, actually, genuinely hates it when his own best friend thinks so low of himself.

 

          ‘You don’t see the sacrifices you make yourself.” He says, “the problem is them.’

 

           And Louis gives a snort. The only response he gives every time because he knows damn well Liam is only trying to make him feel better but he’d rather have his head in a mound of dirt than live by a lie. A tragic lie. It’s not that Liam’s a bad friend but he prefers to live by the truth and that means he really is a shit boyfriend.

 

           The lampposts light up the pavement which allows him to take in his surroundings while driving. There are fewer vehicles on the road. Presumably because everyone’s either moping on their sofas with a romantic movie on play or having a good shag.

 

           His mind wonders about the tall lampposts that stand like soldiers on guard by every bend. And for some odd reason he’s thankful to whoever invented them. He should Google that because it should be an interesting subject really. Why would they invent a lamp post? No he was not thinking about stuff that goes into the rear end. No. Nope. Not at all.

 

           A few roads down, he notices the harsh glare of the lighting from the Somerset house ice rink which illuminates a wider area outside of its inhabitancy. That’s when he also happens to notice the dark outline of a hunched figure sitting on the pavement. He squints to take a closer look but that’s all there is to it, just a crouched male figure, if the shape of the body is anything to go by. It’s just too dark to see. Louis really needn’t bother, perhaps it’s just one of those men who have lost their date or something like him or maybe it’s a homeless man.

 

 _What if he’s a mugger?_ He faintly hears Liam’s voice.

 

          He’s feeling curious nonetheless. It’s a gut instinct and his mother has always told him to trust that bloody instinct so he goes for it. Liam’s going to give him a good one for this, if this idle person turns out to be some sort of tramp or mugger. He’ll slip in the _mother said trust instinct_ when it gets to that. For now he’s got curiosity to attend to.

 

          He brings the car to a halt by the side, a cautious distance away, rolls down his tinted window and yells, hoping the person hears him, “Hey!”

 

          The person jerks his head at the sound and Louis wishes he had some sort of infrared vision to work out his expression.

 

         “Oh hello.” His voice is wobbly like on the verge of crying or something and then it cracks with his next words, “I uh yeah I’m fine, thanks.” He shifts on his seated position. “How about you?”

 

         “Could be better.” Louis shrugs, then holds down the accelerator, moving the car forward and stops by the man on the pavement.

 

         Thank God for headlights because now he can see the bloke’s features. The smoothly styled quiff which has a shine to it from the hair gel used and he could tell a proper large amount had been used. Louis could make out his broad shoulders even from the huge coat he’s wearing, mitten clad hands and his big doe eyes. They seem like a green or they could even be a bright blue. Maybe even hazel but they sparkle and why does he even need to know what the colour of this random guy’s eyes are?

          It seems like the guy is going to ask him something when he fish mouths but Louis beats him to it. “Do you happen to need a lift by any chance?”

 

          “No, I’m fine but thank you.” Louis can make out his tight smile and it makes his stomach flip.

 

           “You don’t seem to be.” Louis deadpans, “Don’t you think it’s a bit cold outside? Come on, get in. I don’t bite, promise.”

 

            The boy appears to consider this offer but then he’s standing up and dusting his clothes off before walking towards the passenger door. He’s bloody tall, Louis feels envious.

 

            The light in the car flicks on when the guy gets in Louis gets a proper good look at him. And well he's cute, truly bloody cute even though he does look like a bit of a nerd with those big arse glasses sitting atop the bridge of his nose.

 

            Louis' hand is on the gear stick, ready to shift it into drive but he’s been to this ice rink before and he knows there’s a café inside and he's craving for a warm drink. “Do you need anything to drink?”

 

            “I’m doing alright, thanks.” The bloke is smiling widely at him but Louis knows a smile like this when he sees one. He’s created it countless times himself.

 

            “Okay, alright.” What’s with the guy’s _I’m alright_ and _I’m fine_ anyway? Louis wonders if he’s a “I’m Louis by the way.”

 

            “M’Harry but my friends call me Marcel.” Harry reaches out to shake his hand and he notices how large his hand is, compared to his own. Is everything about this boy large now?

 

            “Okay I’ll call you Harry.” Louis gives him a smile, “Nice to meet you Harry. I’m just going to get something to drink from the café. I’ll be right back.”

 

            Harry makes to follow him but Louis places a hand on his shoulder just as he is out his door, “Stay. It’s warm in here.”

 

            He nods and Louis makes a short jog to the lounge. It’s warm inside just like he expected. The smell of baked goodies and drinks waft towards him and he’s already feeling like he’s at his mum’s house. Her house always smells of buns or cookies, even cake,  so it’s no surprise that he feels that way. That’s what he loves about cafes.

 

            He orders two hot chocolates, paying seven pounds and declining the change which makes the cashier smile.

 

            “I got you one too.” He says when he gets back to the car and extends the warm cup to Harry who’s hastily scrubbing at his eyes. The boy looks at him for a moment before taking the drink.

 

            “Thank you. You didn’t have to.”

 

            “But I did.” Louis shrugs, shutting the door, “And you’re welcome.”

 

            They’re both silent as they sip at their drink leisurely and the car is humming from the engine. Louis’ itching to ask the boy why he was crying but it seems too personal of a question to ask. He wants to ask if he can drop him home or something but he can’t come up with anything to question in a subtle tone.

 

             “Were you going home?” Harry finally breaks the silence.

 

              “Hmmm?”

 

             “When you stopped and spoke to me,” Harry continues now looking at him. It’s making him uncomfortable to say the least, “Were you on your way home?”

 

              “Sort of.” Louis replies.

 

               Harry’s silent again. He obviously doesn’t know what to say. He’s fiddling with his fingers, the cup of chocolate sitting in the door holder. His leg keeps moving up and down and Louis wants to place a hand and tell him to just stop because it’s making him feel weird too.

 

             “What about you?” He goes for it, “Why were you sitting there alone?”

 

              Harry’s head whips up at that. Apparently he’s shocked by the question. Maybe he wasn’t really expecting it to come from Louis or maybe he had wanted to steer away from saying anything at all. He didn’t owe any sort of explanation to Louis but the older boy was hoping, simply hoping he could wipe the pain behind those green eyes. And the longer Louis keeps staring at him, the more he wants to reach out and touch his skin. Louis wants to comfort him. It’s just who he is.

 

             “I had a date.” Harry finally replies but his head is turned to look out the window, “You know…valentines day and all.”

 

             “Shit isn’t it?” Louis scoffs with a tight feeling in his chest, bringing the drink to his lips.

 

             He sees Harry turn to face him through his peripheral vision and silently cheers.

 

            “You too?”

 

            “What do you mean?”

 

            “Did you not have a date today then?”

 

            “I did.” Louis nods.

 

            Harry looks at the back seat and around for a while before asking again, “Why umm did you… uh” he’s clearly struggling to express his thoughts but Louis waits, unable to give in and just say that _yes_ he got dumped. “Did you have a good one then?”

 

           Well damn! He was not expecting that.

 

            His silence is apparently not what Harry is looking for, “I’m sorry.” Louis looks at him with a quirked brow. “Was that out of line?”

 

           “No! no!” Louis is quick to reassure him, “I got dumped.”

 

            Harry’s giving him a questioning look, so he sighs and explains, “He kind of stood me up.”

 

            “What?! Why? What happened?” Harry’s upright with a shocked expression and spewing question after question.

 

            “Slow down.” Louis laughs feeling relaxed already, “It’s a long story.”

 

            “Well the way I see it, we’ve both got nowhere to go unless you actually do.” Harry says with a smirk.

 

             Louis throws him a look of disapproval.

 

             “I’ll tell you my story if you do.” Harry trades.

 

            He’s too sweet and charming to refuse. “Well we were supposed to be dining and we both decided to meet up at the designated restaurant..” Louis begins, “I was there first, ordered water and waited for him to arrive for almost ten minutes.” Harry nods his head to keep going. “Half an hour and he’s stopped replying to my texts. I mean how could one forget they’ve got a date much less be reminded and get to it late? I stayed almost for an hour and a half, had a smoothie in the meantime and left.”

 

             “Is that when you saw me?” Harry asks.

 

            Louis nods. “Now tell me what your story is Mr. Lets Trade Stories.”

 

           “Hey!!!!” Harry acts affronted, “I’ll have you know I’m a good story teller Mr. I Pick Up Strangers.”

 

            Louis only grins, shaking his head in wild bemusement. “Go on.”

 

            “Right. So…” Harry begins, “This guy is in my genetics class in Uni and well I fancied him a bit. He’s right fit and tall and all that-“

 

            “Fancied?” Louis interrupts, “Past tense. As in the past?”

 

            Harry bursts out laughing at that, elbowing Louis purposefully in the process, “Don’t interrupt me.”

 

            “Okay. Sorry.” Louis raises his hands up in surrender with a grin, “Go ahead.”

 

            “I asked him out because…” he looks at Louis sheepishly, “Neither of us had a date and it would all be a bit of good fun even if he rejected the offer.”

 

            “That’s painful.” Louis winces before giving him a smile.

 

            “It was worth a try.” Harry shrugs.

 

            “What happened then?”

 

           “He agreed.” Louis feels his heart drop. “And I kind of organized a trip to the ice rink. It’s cliché I know but I’m a romantic at heart and today’s a romantic celebration.”

 

           “Ice skating is fun.” Louis voices.

 

           “You think?” there’s more of a curious tone to the boy’s question.

 

            Louis nods, “Yeah I’d totally go for it.”

 

           “Thanks.” Harry smiles shyly, “But I don’t think he liked it anyway.”

 

             “What? Why?” Louis’ the one in alert mode now, feeling a bud of fury blossoming within because you can’t, not like a sweet gesture this cherub of an angel makes.

 

            “He kind of up and left?”

 

            “Get to the point curly.” Louis gives him a fond look which makes Harry chuckle nervously.

 

             “He wasn’t exactly cheerful and then while we were skating he tripped on his feet and it must have embarrassed him because he said he needed a break and that he’d be back.” Harry explains, “He never came back. Besides he was my ride home.”

 

            Louis watches him, eyes flitting from his emerald eyes to his wobbly lips from where he has his head bent. A smile graces his very own lips when he sees how adorable the boy looks, worried and sad. He wants to wrap him up in his arms. He isn’t feasting on Harry being sad, of course not. Harry simply is a fawn in fancy clothing.

 

            “Come with me.” Louis finally says, breaking Harry out of his trance. He gets out of the driver’s seat, cup in hand and shutting the door behind him with a click. When he gets to the pavement, Harry’s still seated in the passenger’s seat with a quizzical look etched across his features.

 

            Louis arcs a brow and gestures him to come forth.

 

            “What’s going on Louis?” Harry asks as he steps out of the car and shuts the door softly behind him.

 

            Louis simply takes Harry’s hand in his and pulls him along with a smirk plastered across his face.

 

            “I hope you’re not an axe murderer or something.”

 

             Louis snorts at that, unable to help himself. He’s determined to make this day, one of the best ones yet for Harry. The boy deserves a smile upon his face at all times and Louis can’t even imagine what he must have looked like when he was sobbing. It’s a crime against nature, beautiful creatures aren’t supposed to feel sad.

 

            “You never know. I’ll bury you in my backyard or something.”

 

            “I’ll haunt you for the rest of your life.” Harry retorts but Louis knows his smiling now by the tone of his voice.

 

           “I’d be honoured.”

 

           “It won’t be pretty.”

 

           “Who said haunting would be pretty?”

 

           “Oh, you’re so bloody cheeky!” Harry gasps, pushing at his shoulders and Louis laughs.

 

           Louis pulls him along to the ice rink, pays for two and gets them two pairs of ice skates. His heart is beating in trepidation. He’s uncertain if Harry will question his motives because he knows he has no prepared answers whatsoever.

 

          However Harry doesn’t utter a word even when they’re sitting on the benches and lacing up their shoes. So he tries breaking the silence, he doesn’t like it, feels like he’s doing something wrong. “I’m not very good at this.” In a way he’s reassuring himself that this will be alright.

 

           “Don’t worry.” Harry smiles at him, “I’m a pretty good skater myself.”

 

           “Aren’t you cocky?” Louis chuckles, standing up once he’s done. Harry’s working on his right foot.

 

           “You shall see.” Is all he says before hopping off the bench and making a dramatic slide onto the ice. Louis gulps.

 

           “I don’t fancy late night hospital trips.” Louis calls out, still standing on safe ground.

 

           “Oh come on Lewis.” Harry grins, “It’s not so bad.”

 

           _You can do this_. He tells himself before taking a deep breath and placing a foot cautiously on the ice. He’s holding onto the railing luckily so the unbalance does little to deter his stability. Harry’s watching him from a few feet away, hands on his hips like an impatient mother.

 

           “I’m coming you twat.” Louis mutters.

   

           “I can hear you.” Harry sing songs.

 

           Louis can’t stop the close mouthed smile from stretching across his face. He’s feeling some sort of elatedness from this and seeing Harry standing there a few feet away, a similar smile across his face and his eyes shining under the glow of the lights is already doing things to Louis’ heart.

 

           With a hammering heart, Louis places his other foot upon the ice and let’s go of the railing. He’s staring at his feet and the iced floor transfixed, afraid of what catastrophe is to befall upon him at any given moment.

 

           “I have no idea how to do this!” he almost yells.

 

           Boisterous laughter follows his statement. “First test the ice.”       

 

          “Yeah right.”Louis huffs, “Thanks for taking so long to say that.”       

 

           Harry seems to be receiving some sort of enjoyment out of Louis’ helplessness and Louis’ not bothered by it at all. Harry’s smiling and his dimples are like craters grafted into his cheeks. That’s what he’s supposed to look like for the rest of his life, Louis thinks. “What! Like should I sharpen my blades against it or something?”       

 

          “Exactly,” Harry beams, “Hold onto the wall for leverage as you do so.” He adds as an afterthought.       

 

          “I’ve got a tutor in my hands.” Louis mumbles as he grips the wall and slides a foot to and fro on the ice.       

 

          “Now the other.” Harry instructs. He’s got his hands clasped behind his back and moving from side to side on the ice. He looks like a proper coach with the long black coat and autumn adorned scarf hanging around his neck. His glasses are gonna fall off for sure throughout the night.       

 

         When Louis’ got a good feel of the ice, he raises a questioning brow at Harry.       

 

        “Move your feet outwards, then inwards, like this,” he demonstrates, “keep repeating it.”       

 

        “You mean I have to let go of the wall?” Louis asks panicked which adds more vigour to Harry’s amusement.       

 

        “If you want to put it that way then yes.” He shrugs.       

 

        So he tries. Very gently let’s go and tries manoeuvring his feet out then in, using the inner blades of his skates. He gets it the first try and he looks up at Harry for approval who’s grinning. Louis’ literally got his eyes transfixed on his feet now as he rapidly begins approaching Harry.       

 

       “If you fall,” Harry calls out, “Make sure to land on your rear.”       

 

       “What?!” Louis looks up appalled, “I’m not hurting my bum!”       

 

       “Well you don’t want to hurt your face either.” Harry winks and it’s exactly as if he knew it would happen. Louis’ legs wobble and he thrusts his hands outwards in instinct for something to grab onto and he falls with a plop on his precious arse.        

 

        He winces and gives Harry a pout. The bastard is simply watching him smugly, hands crossed over his chest.       

 

       “I probably look like an idiot.” Louis says, still trying to lure Harry with his pout.       

 

        “Everyone learns from mistakes.” Harry skates over to him and offers his hands. Louis refuses with a turn of his head and crosses his arms.       

 

       “Good luck standing up on your own.” Harry says beginning to skate away and Louis can’t have that! Jesus no!       

 

        “No! Wait!” he calls, “Come back.”

 

        He grabs onto Harry’s hands and the taller boy keeps a firm grip on him as he continues to instruct. “Dig the toe of your shoe into the ice and raise your other leg into a sitting position.”

 

         Louis does so with a slight wobble and pushes off from the freezing ice. Their fingers are still interlaced whilst they face each other.

 

        “Now, follow my lead.” Harry begins to skate backwards, pulling Louis along with him, “Just keep your feet together, bend your knees and push off with one foot.”

 

       “We’ll both fall.” Louis says in worry, holding onto Harry for dear life.

 

          Harry laughs, “No we won’t. Just do it.” His hands are engulfing Louis’ petite ones in a cocoon and his grip is so strong that Louis doesn’t doubt falling again. He has half a mind to ask Harry to roll up his sleeves just to see how toned his arm muscles are.

 

         “I didn’t know you were so bad at this.”

 

         “Hey now!” Louis cocks his head with mock disbelief, “I’ve never bothered to try it out, though the thought of it seemed somewhat interesting to me.” Harry nods in understanding. “Besides, I didn’t even take long to learn.” he says proudly.

 

         “That.” Harry points out, “is very accurate. I’m surprised.”

 

          Louis makes sure to glance over Harry’s shoulder occasionally so that they don’t bump into anyone and embarrass themselves or worse tumble over them. “Why?” he asks, “Do you coach a lot of boys?”

 

         That gets Harry laughing for a good half a minute but he never lets go of Louis and their hands are warming up from being held for so long.

 

          They keep gliding across the ice for awhile, around the rink and across in patterns because according to Harry, _‘the rest of the rink would feel sad if we only skate in one area.’_

 

         He’s an adorable idiot, Louis regards. “Harry, the rink is just one whole thing, it’s not like divided into tiny other pieces of it’s form. What are you even talking about?”

 

        “Fine.” Harry had huffed, “But I’m going to.”

 

         Louis wanted to mush his face in Harry’s heart. “Okay alright.” he agreed, “Let’s make some trips across the middle of her.”

 

         And now Louis’ watching Harry do stunts across the ice, trying to twirl with his hands in the air in a ballerina pose. He’d  invited him to practice but Louis refused, instead opting to skate like a _sensible human being_ beside Harry.

 

        He’s getting the hang of ice skating now which he is very very proud of and he’s going to fill in Liam and Zayn all about it. How this gentle giant had come swooping into his life and how they’d gone skating because Louis didn’t want this big heart, cute, gangly limbed boy who regarded ice rinks to have feelings to be going home with an empty heart this year. How he’s now a fucking pro at this ice skating shit because pretty green eyes coached him all through it, holding him with his hulk like arms.

 

        “Gem and I used to compete with each other. “Harry pipes, after he’s made another twirl, “We’d see how many rounds we could make in under two minutes.”

 

        “I’d say not much, “Louis smiles, “Is Gem your sister?”

 

       “Yes.” Harry nods “Gemma.” he’s beaming when he says it, “You up for it?”

 

        The boy’s got a hopeful look and Louis knows it’s not something he offers to or shares with just anyone. It feels like he’s try to convey how much he appreciates this moment, how happy he is. And Louis doesn’t need to know how happy he is. Harry’s face is simply glowing and his eyes hold a twinkle in them and he knows it’s not just because of the glare of the field lamps in the rink.

 

        Louis gives him a fond look and brings his arms up out of his pockets where they’ve been toasty warm. Harry’s eyes follows his movements as he takes the glasses off before folding and tucking them into Harry’s coat pocket. “They’re likely to fall off.”Louis explains, patting the pocket, “Come on now.”

 

        They race against each other, one of them standing off to the side and timing while the other does the round, dodging other people as if they regard them as obstacles for a race. Harry smacks Louis’ bum when he passes by, causing the boy to give an unmanly squeak. Louis even snaps a picture of the rink with the civilians and sends it to his mates, captioned with a _you’ll never guess what happened_. He knows they’re bound to bomb him with questions when he gets back to the flat.

 

           It’s a little past eight when they decide to get back. The car warms them up as soon as they get in and turn up the heater. They're both flushed from the cold in the ice rink and wearing identical smiles upon their faces. Harry's nose has turned into a pretty pink colour, his lips dry, his hair fucking disheveled and Louis can see ringlets of curls unraveling. So he has curly hair? or wavy?

 

          "Are you hungry?" Louis asks him.

 

         They're still parked by the Somerset house, with no idea of which direction to turn to. Harry turns to look at him and it takes him a brief moment to reply, "Kind of." He sounds sheepish by his reply and Louis wants to reassure him that he's perfectly fine if he's hungry. Everyone becomes hungry, it's not like a bad thing.

 

        "Okie dokie." Louis cheerfully chimes, rubbing his hands together and turns off the engine, “Let’s check out Tom’s Kitchen.”

 

       When they cross paths and reach the diner, it looks completely full from the outside. Louis’ stomach turns because what if Harry is disappointed? Perhaps they could like, grab something as takeaway and have it somewhere in a park or something. He shakes free from his thoughts and gives Harry a smile with a "Come on."

 

         Harry follows him, his hands tucked deep in his pockets and a light skip to his step.

 

          "Do you think we could get a table?" he questions.

 

          Louis' instinct is to scratch his neck. "Let's hope so." In a way he's quite glad Harry questioned it. He wouldn't be able to bear the shame if they actually would have to go out and score for another restaurant.

 

         "I won't mind if we can't grab a table. We could go to McDonald's or something."

 

          It's like the boy can read his every thought, from praising him for how good he skates to a sort of reassurance now and it's starting to make him very nervous. No  one's ever read him as clear as daylight as Liam does. Liam's a different story though, a _prehistoric_ story at that. It’s not that he’s uncomfortable with it, he’s just not used to it.

 

        "Okay." Why is he communicating in short phrases now? He really really hopes he doesn't fuck it up now. _Now's not the time Louis._

 

       As soon as they enter, one of the worker’s is waving comically at them. A gleeful smile spreads across Louis’ face at the sight of his friend.

 

      “Sid, this is Harry, “Louis introduces them, “Harry, this is Sid one of the worst pains in the arse.” Sid fakes appearing offended..

 

       “I see you’ve met tommo.”

 

        Harry giggles and extends his hand to which Sid shakes with a “Nice to meet you.” He wiggles his eyebrows at Louis and asks, “So date?” Louis flushes instantly.

 

         “Is it full?” Louis asks instead and Sid’s eyes sweeps through the room and he nods.

 

          “Wait here.” he says before going into the back room.

 

          “I’ll be back.” Harry tells Louis, then points at the washroom so he gets the idea. Louis nods and takes the time to get seated at the counter and fiddle with a stray menu.

 

          When Sid comes back, he’s holding two cocktail glasses in hand, a pink liquid swirling inside.

 

          “Rose Petal Martini.” Sid announces, setting the glasses in front of Louis, “For the lovers.”

 

           “Shut up Sid.” Louis groans, “We’re not. Just friends having dinner.”

 

           “I see.” Sid replies with a pointed look that indicates he’s used to this talk, “Where’s Harry then?”

 

           “Washroom,” Louis takes a glass and sniffs, “Is this a fucking rose?”

 

           “Petal.” Sid corrects him, “Drinks on the house.” He leafs through a drawer and pulls out a menu, “Our Valentine special. What will you have?”

 

           “Awww Sid, “Louis flutters his eyelids, touching his chest, “Always been a romantic at heart.”

 

            Sid whacks him upside the head, laughing, “Check the menu you twat.”

 

           “Right, “Louis cocks his fingers into a gun, “I’ll wait for Harry but I’m ordering a dessert which is not on this menu.”

 

            It’s stupid is what he thinks. This is not a date, he’s just getting the both of them something to eat and it’s turned out into something akin to romantic. Ice skating, Valentine’s menu and rose _whatever_ cocktails and his mind is obviously going to choose something really cheesy for desert.

 

             The chocolate mousse profiteroles are staring at him mockingly in the face in big letters and he’s staring back just as hard. Is this what karma feels like?

 

             “Ice cream.” he deadpans. Sid raises an eyebrow but doesn’t question it, instead nods and places another menu beside the one Louis is aggressively burning holes through with his intense stare.

 

             He takes a deep breathe. _It’s going to be fine_.

 

            When Harry comes back, Louis' eyes immediately follow the line of the most distracting thing that happens to be his hair which isn't in a drooping quiff anymore but loose fucking curls! Harry smiles shyly and takes the seat beside him.

 

            "You've got curls. "Louis blurts out as if that wasn't technically obvious.

 

            "Yes, "Harry nods with a blush, "So..."

 

            "Yeah, "Louis clears his throat. He wants to fucking touch those curls. "What would you like to have?" He pushes the extra menu towards him.

 

            He watches the taller boy flip through it while his own fingers fold and unfold the corner of a page into a dog ear, in the menu. Harry's eyes skim through the listed dishes, bites his lower lip in concentration and brushes a hand through his hair as a loose strand falls onto his line of vision.

 

           "Are you getting a starter?" he asks.

 

           Louis shrugs and averts his eyes, "Your choice curly."

 

          "Okay..um what do you think about the scallops and roasted dover sole?"

 

          "Sounds good to me, "Louis smiles, "Do you mind like waiting till Sid gets us a free table?"

 

          "Yeah of course. "Harry's looking at the martini in front of him which Louis notices and makes a swiping hand motion towards it.

 

          "It's for you. Rose petal something martini."

 

          Harry laughs and heat rises up his cheeks, "Thank you."

 

           Louis wants to say that it wasn't his idea but the the thought that Harry actually is happy and thinks that it’s Louis idea and is completely okay with it, wipes every other logical thought driving through Louis’ mind. He simply nods and sips his drink which he had kept until Harry's arrival to taste. "So do we eat the petal?"

 

            Harry's laughter bursts through his lips like a stagnant volcano waiting to blow and a few of the couples are startled by it. It’s a deep cackle and one that doesn’t grate Louis’ ears, it spikes a warmth in his body instead. Harry quickly stifles his mouth with a hand but his eyes are shaking with joy. Louis' fingers twitch to reach up and take off his hand, tell him he loves the sound of his laughter.

 

        “It’ll make you sick.” Harry explains but Sid has come around for their order and Louis rushes the order just to be able to give Harry a nod and a thumbs up.

  


        

           In the past few hours, he has compelled his mind to believe that the two of them has bonded over a great friendship whilst taking Harry on a date too (but that’s his part of the story.) He thinks Harry won't notice but now when he really reflects on it, Harry's actually been playing along and he doesn't know what to do about it. Like always, his doubts settle in. Those irreplaceable, draining thoughts that has constantly made him feel insecure and on edge about every decision he makes. Liam's always reassured him but it's a core thing to immediately think _‘he's saying it because he's your friend.’_

 

         Harry's presence is making him feel more comfortable, more secure enough to do anything really but there's still a tinge of lingering resistance luring around.

 

          The couple in the far corner of the room starts to pack up and Sid nudges Louis as he passes by to collect the dishes. The two of them wait until the table is cleared out to take their seats and as soon as they do, their starter is placed on the table.

 

           Harry’s got the rose petal sitting beside his dish on a napkin. He’s so careful with it, brushes his fingers very gently when he touches it and carries it around like a relic or something and what’s worse is Louis notices everything Harry does. From the way he holds his fork to the difference between one of his forced smiles and a genuine one.

 

 _You put a rose petal in the martini and Harry’s in love with it. Bring me a fucking rose flower!_ he texts Sid as Harry takes a sip from his drink.

 

_What?! I’m confused._

 

_So am I cuz my date loves flowers._

 

_Shut up Lou. I’ll get you one._

 

         Louis tucks his phone into his pocket so there’s no further interruption during their dinner and asks Harry, “Do you like the scallops.”

 

         Harry raises a finger to indicate a moment before wiping his lips with a napkin and nodding with a satisfied keen, “I really, actually like it.”

 

          “Good.” Louis speaks around his own mouthful, “I’ll be bringing buckets of scallops for you from now on.”

 

          Harry’s eyes light up at this admission. “You mean it?”

 

          “If you want to die of eating scallops in bucketfuls then I’ve got no problem.” Louis’ heart's not beating humanely, he’s  just realized what’s he had actually implied.

 

         “Bunches of bananas then.” Harry suggests.

 

          “So now you’re a monkey?”

 

         “Yes but a cute one.” Harry nods very seriously, “What was I before then?”

 

         “Who said you're cute?” Louis flicks a piece of the serviette he’s been tearing at, at him “You were a fawn at the rink.”

 

          “Hey! Just because I have poor coordination.” Harry swats the air in front of him, “You were really bad at skating.”

 

           Louis makes a face at him but makes no response. Sid approaches their table with the main course and stands next to Louis as he lays the table. He effectively kicks Louis’ foot and does a subtle bum shake which Louis feels scandalized by, because _what the fuck!_ But then he sees the red in contrast to the black slacks and subtly takes the rose from his pocket.

 

            The dover sole actually tastes good compared to the last time he's had it. A bitter date, is a bitter meal. He's not being a heartless stubborn person to be bringing Harry to the same place he's already had a run down date but it was ages ago. Tom's Kitchen is his favourite place ever and he wants Harry here, wants him to actually share a meal in the place that's close to Louis' heart.

 

        "This is better than what I make." Harry says when he's taking a bite.

 

        "You cook?" Louis raises a brow, twirling the rose in his left hand, under the table.

 

        "I love cooking." Harry gives him a shy smile before ducking his head and continuing to eat. Louis' really run out of words to describe him now and from across the room he can see Sid giving him a thumbs up which he's grateful for despite the denial he had spewed.

 

*

 

        Throughout the meal it's Harry who gives away bits and pieces about himself.

 

         When Louis produces the rose with a, "You were in love with the petal so..." Harry's lips tilt up and his dimples are set in so deep as he takes the rose from Louis with nimble fingers. He stares at him with a look of wonder and appreciativeness, a look full of faith and something akin to hope and Louis barely feels uncomfortable now. Harry brings the rose to his nose and inhales deep, closing his eyes. "I love flowers."

 

        "No kidding." Louis goes back to eating but he's really giddy inside.

 

         "If you could be a flower what would you be?"

 

          "Harry, you're probably the flower expert here."

 

          "Come on Lou.” he gives him a very adorable pout that makes Louis’ gut twist.” I'd like to be a Gladiolus."

 

          "And why's that?" Louis questions, interest sparked. He loves listening to Harry talk, he makes the most dreadful conversations sound interesting.

 

          "Gladiolus' represent strength of character." Harry's still got the rose in his hand so Louis fills his empty water glass and pushes it towards the boy.

 

          "So you would like to acquire the traits of this flower?"

 

           "Yes."

 

          "Hmm." Louis hums, "What would I be?"

 

           Harry pretends to think as he carefully lays the rose in the water to lean against the wall of the glass. "You are an Amaryllis and I'd give you a solid colour carnation."

 

          "What meaning does it hold?"

 

         "It means you're not funny." Harry says before bursting into quiet squeals of laughter.

 

         "Very funny Harry." Louis says in fond mockery, "Let's get eating."

 

*

         Dinner leaves him with an impetuous feeling of renewal, something he longs for again.

 

        Harry’s still clutching onto the bloody rose when they get into the car. Louis shifts into gear and checks in the rear view mirror for any oncoming cars before pulling into the road. Harry opens his mouth to apparently say something but instead he fish mouths before pressing his lips into a tight line and looking through the window. Louis doesn't try to question him either.

 

         “Where do you live?” Louis asks when he feels like it’s safe to do so.

 

         “Do you know where the Indigo flats are?” he asks and Louis nods. “Yeah, there.”

 

          Halfway through the drive when it's possibly a silence of five minutes, Harry's voice cuts through the air, "Thank you." It's soft and almost like a whisper and if Louis' ears weren't straining in the silence, he wouldn't have been able to catch it. He feels the heat pooling in his stomach, he feels giddy and so inexplicably euphoric. It's been such a good day and he's had so much fun when he had merely thought he'd only end up driving around their town for a good part of the night to steam off his loneliness before going to a sleeping flat. He wonders if he should reply, if he should say something and ruin the moment.

 

          The delicately professed  words hanging in the air is neither uncomfortable nor reposing at the same time.So he does the only thing he's accustomed to do. He turns on the radio and tunes it to his favourite station, Radio 1. Zayn always gets cranky when he turns that channel on.

 

          "I hate that fucker, Grimshe or whatever his name is." he’d scowl.

 

          Liam would then laugh even though it's not a joke, simply because the words had come from his boyfriend and he thought them to be funny. Typical Liam that is. He's always been enamoured by Zayn.

 

          Grimshaw’s not always hosting the show which Zayn simply refuses to believe, just likes to spew shit about him.

 

           Riptide comes on and Harry’s bobbing his head to the beat with a, “It’s my favourite song.” Louis can’t deny that, it’s his favourite too.

 

*

 

           They’re parked at the flats and Harry’s facing Louis, a leg tucked under the other,“I uh had a nice time. Really thank you very much Lou.” Louis lets him speak, “If you hadn’t offered a ride, I’d probably be spending the night on the pavement or the park.”

 

           “It didn't end up that way exactly." Louis chuckles getting too choked up now because he doesn’t know if he’ll see this lad again and he really fucking wants to.”And for the record, I had so much fun too, so thanks to you too for making it a bearable night.”

 

          They stare at each other like that for a brief moment until Harry breaks eye contact and goes, “So...do I get a kiss?”

 

           And Louis thinks this is it. This is his moment. This is his chance to fix everything, this is a sign from above for him to take that challenge but he doesn’t want Harry to be a challenge, he wants to see him every dawn to dusk.. So _gut instinct_ he thinks, “Only if I get to take you on another date.”

          

           Harry’s beaming and his eyes search Louis’ face before he ducks and captures his lips between his own. Louis finally gets to card his fingers through Harry’s soft curls, he tugs at them lightly emitting a moan from the boy, as he prods at his lips with his tongue. Louis hopes they don't crush the glasses in Harry's coat by any chance. Harry’s leaning so far into Louis, one knee on the seat and the other between their seats. He follows Louis’ lips every time Louis tries pulling away slightly and it makes him smirk that Harry’s so desperate. He nips at the younger boy’s rosy lips and plays against his tongue. There’s a buzzing in his veins, a course of shock that springs through his body and he curls his toes inside his shoes. He tightens his hold on Harry’s curls and pulls away. A string of spit breaks from their kiss and they’re breathing heavily, their darkened eyes staring into each other.

 

          He surges forward to give Harry one last peck but swipes his tongue against his lips and pulls away with a winning smile.

 

          When they do finally come to their senses, Harry gives him a smirk and is out the door, shouting a “Yes you can” on the way out.

 

          As soon as he pulls out of the parking lot, he’s googling the fucking flowers and their meanings. A _yes_ is what he sees when he comes across the solid colour chrysanthemum. He stares, confused, because what’s that got to do with anything? -  when he sees the petal sitting on Harry’s seat. He’s left the petal and taken the rose.

 

          And oh sweet fuck, now’s when it hits him what the rose had meant when he’d given it to Harry without even thinking of it but he's so fucking ecstatic.

 

_Love_

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and your thoughts please? :)
> 
> Come speak to me on [tumblr](http://hazzabooween.tumblr.com/)


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